


Work in progress

by Neubauje



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Extreme AU, F/F, Future AU, Genderswap, Magic AU, Multi, Other, race swap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-18 05:02:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 7,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2336249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neubauje/pseuds/Neubauje
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is me pulling a 50-Shades, if you'll forgive the expression. So far as in the sense that I’m taking what would be Sherlock fanfiction and making so many changes that it hopefully becomes unrecognizable as anything other than original work. This helps me with characterization. Imagine Sherlock fanfic, except… genderswapped, race-swapped, profession-swapped, set in the future, and with minor mystical elements. And with different names. With all that in mind, I’ll start posting Onewords again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Graced

The mobile medical tent is empty this morning, save for Lt. Dashan and the touring doctor. Sinnie nibbles on the inside of her cheek and contemplates her line of thinking for a good while, something she’s been brewing over for the past few months. “Doc,” she queries, still not entirely sure she wants to open this particular can of worms.

“Hmm?” Only after a few seconds does Dr. Uzumane raise her eyes to answer her patient, still absorbed in research on her most recent topic of interest.

“I uh… Well, it’s just that… I’ve never exactly been the fastest healer.” Sinnie sighs softly and glances away, not confident in her wording.

Jolenne chuckles and returns her attention back to her article. “I’d noticed.” She seems to still be listening with one ear, curious where this may be going.

Sinnie twists her lips to one side, still unable to read the doctor’s moods, even after so much time spent under her care. “Yes, but… I’ve noticed, too. I seem to be healing a lot faster on this tour than I usually do. At least, when I get assigned as your patient.”

Jolenne pauses, her eyes no longer flicking across the lines of text, then sets her reading aside with a slump and runs her fingers through her considerable tangle of dark hair. “You are not the first to notice it, but yes. It’s not something I’m exactly keen to admit to on a regular basis.” Cringing a little, she twists in her seat a few degrees to peer at her patient out of the corner of one eye.

“What’s not?” The anti-social doctor has the injured soldier’s full attention now.

“Er… that is… there’s a reason I’m in the medical field, you see. It’s more of a family tradition than anything.” Jolenne sighs and gestures vaguely in Sinnie’s direction with one slender surgeon’s hand, “The reason you’ve recovered so quickly under my care is because I’m Graced. My family occasionally displays minor healing abilities.”


	2. Merciful

Sinnie scowled behind her helmet, thankful that none of the civilians could see her indecision. They weren’t entirely civilians, was the thing. They were trainees in an enemy camp. But new ones, still relatively harmless. Still young with plenty of life left to live, if it hadn’t been taken away by this endless war.

"Don’t hesitate, private Dashan," A voice crackled in on Sinnie’s earpiece, her commanding officer about twenty paces away. "You can’t let them tell their friends how merciful we are. They’ll see us as weak. Come on, you know this."

Sinnie shook her head in silent denial, gesturing with the nose of her gun to usher their captives into a nearby stockroom. “Mercy is not the same as weakness,” She muttered, mostly to keep her own resolve than to go against her orders. “Besides, they’re more useful to us alive than dead. We can bargain with them or even train them for ourselves.” The new prisoners of war seemed just as frightened as they had been staring down the barrel of death, but at least for now nobody was in danger.

The CO grunted his reluctant approval, knowing the new recruits wouldn’t keep their virtuosity much longer.


	3. Dignity

Jolenne could hear them, more often than they realized. 

"The doc hasn’t been outside since we got here… is she alright?"

"She’s always like this. She’s got something against the sun, I swear. What a freak."

"Really? Weird."

They weren’t wrong, exactly. There were many things about the world outside her medical tent which kept her from venturing beyond its flaps. The sun was the least of these reasons. After so long shielding herself from the fighting and the violence, from the harsh conditions and the even harsher voices shouting commands, it was far too long to change her habits now. She had too much dignity to wander out with a face like a lonesome puppy, too much pride to ask for an extra set of hands to keep up with the heavy workflow. And far too many soldiers she’d already alienated with her strange ways. It wouldn’t do any good now.


	4. Hardly

Tucked away in her corner of the medical tent, Sinnie can only watch with a silent sense of awe as Dr. Uzumane performs triage on an incoming group of soldiers. Apparently they’d been hit while on the road, and the utility vehicle had practically exploded with them still inside.

"This one’s stable, set him over in a bed for now." With her hands busy patching up a gaping wound, half-cauterized in the blow, Jolenne barely glances at each new patient as they’re brought in to her tent. Some wheeled in by the healthier troop-mates, some limping in behind them, all seem to be battered or bruised in some way. The doctor is relentless, flitting from one patient to the next with a quick assessment and even quicker care when needed. "You there, come lay down. You’re bleeding internally." She directs one soldier to a bed in the emergency section, one who might have seemed alright for the time being to an untrained eye.

Hours later, after stabilizing as many as possible and recording the deaths of those unable to be saved, Sinnie catches Jolenne’s eye as she sterilizes the leg-wound of the patient in the next bed over. “You were amazing out there,” the healing solder mentions softly. “All by yourself, you did the work of at least three people. Incredible.”

"Hardly," Jolenne answers back just as softly, not taking her eyes off her work as she sutures up the leg, glancing to make sure the patient is still out cold. "Just doing my job. An assistant would just get in the way."


	5. Imagined

In the middle of the night the war almost seems to have stopped. There's hardly a sound except for the soft constant of the chirping insects out in the desert, interspersed with only the occasional faraway burst of gunfire or an explosion. Sinnie finds herself lying awake, her leg throbbing dully in its cast as she tries to ignore it and go back to sleep. At least, until she spies movement just two beds away.

Dr. Uzumane is making her rounds, checking on the patients one by one as they sleep. Here she pauses over the sleeping Sgt. McKinley, hands hovering inches away from his bandaged-up bullet wounds. Sinnie can't tell in the darkness what exactly the doctor is doing, perhaps checking the dressings or taking a quick temperature. There almost seems to be a gentle glow beneath the diminutive medic's palm, a soft blue that Sinnie can't remember seeing from any medical instrument before. But in a second, it's gone and Dr. Uzumane is hurrying on to check on the next patient. Sinnie shakes her head and lies back against her thin pile of pillows, reassuring herself that her morphine-muddled mind must have just imagined it.


	6. Retreat

It’s not the traveling that Jolenne minds, not exactly. She adores seeing new places and learning more about the climates and the cultures wherever they may go. The getting there, however, is far too dull for her liking. It wouldn’t be so bad ordinarily, with some reading material to keep her occupied, or perhaps even a seat comfortable enough to nap in, but on tour like this… it’s unbearable. All personal belongings and medical equipment are stowed away in the back of the truck. The road is far too bumpy to relax, and the seats are too open to get settled in one spot. The close quarters with other soldiers doesn’t help, either. The chatter of their conversations washes over Jolenne without pause, their topics not of interest, her involvement not in their priorities. The doctor is left to stave off her ennui with a silent retreat, to ignore the loud and crowded surroundings for a quieter, more private space in her head. The library of old medical texts she’d kept at her parents’ home; the empty mortuary at school, with the freedom to learn from the cadavers in relative peace; even just the dim shelter of the medical tent which she has come to think of as her own. It is a small comfort to mentally re-read the pages of Grey’s Anatomy while the hot, dry dust swirls in one car window and out the other.


	7. Broaden

The day is just winding to a close and the troops are withdrawing to their base a few kilometers from the action, leaving just a few sentries behind for the night. Many of the soldiers look forward to this time of night, setting up card tables or other games and competitions. Some prefer to relax and read a book, or write home to their families. Others take to the bunks early, taking the opportunity to catch up on their sleep deficits.

Sinnie, however, has grown accustomed to the doctor’s odd variety of company during her recovery period this past month, and finds she’s come to miss it these couple of days since her release back into active duty. Given the opportunity to visit, she ducks her way into the medical tent rather than the recreational area where most of her peers have gone.

"Lieutenant Dashan," Dr. Uzumane barks from the far end of the tent, "You don’t appear to have gotten yourself injured again so soon. Why are you here?"

Sinnie pauses, almost certain she’s unwelcomely interrupted a delicate procedure. “I can leave, if you want…”

The doctor chuffs a small laugh and shakes her head, beckoning the soldier over with one hand. “Not at all, I’m not too very busy tonight. You won’t be in the way. Now, why are you here?”

Sinnie sighs softly and approaches to sit on the mattress beside the patient Jolenne has been tending to. “Well, doc, I suppose uh… I just thought I might be able to broaden my horizons a bit. Is there anything I can help with?”

"Hmm…" Jolenne carefully finishes emptying a syringe into the officer’s shoulder before looking up. "You know how to read the milliliter markings on these syringes?" The volunteer assistant nods. "Then you can help me by sterilizing the empty ones and then refilling them with morphine, in incremental dosages." She points toward the large container of the powerful drug, inconspicuous and unmarked, then at the bin where she’s been keeping the used syringes. "Use the bleach first, then boiling water, and let them dry before you refill them."

Sinnie nods and heads over to the directed work area, but pauses before touching anything. “Should I wear gloves or something?” She eyes a nearby box of vinyl gloves, almost certain the doctor’s supply of size S won’t fit.

"It would be prudent, but I’m afraid I don’t stock any size but my own. The rest are all buried in the cargo packs still. Just be sure to do a thorough washing, up past your wrists at least."

Hoping to be more of a help than a hindrance, Sinnie bends over the sink to get to work.

"I’ll be sure to unpack a couple boxes of Large gloves next time," Jolenne adds, already assuming the lieutenant’s presence as a given possibility.


	8. Flexible

The end of the tour is fast approaching, and the camp is abuzz with excitement, the soldiers all discussing the families they’d be going home to or the careers they had lined up or the schools they wanted to attend. In rare form, Jolenne finds herself in the mess hall, taking in the energy of the crowd therein. Her eyes land on Lt. Dashan, one of the only faces in this particular troupe that she’s bothered to learn. The older recruit seems to be in good spirits, to be sure, but not at the same level as the other three officers she’s sitting with, each of them swapping futures.

Back in the relative privacy of her medical tent, the doctor waits for her volunteer helper to return for the sparse hours they have together. She can hardly keep focused on her book, her mind instead drifting back to that subdued relief she’d seen behind Sinnie’s forced smile. Eventually, after Jolenne is certain she’s read the same paragraph no fewer than four times, the weary blonde makes her way through the flaps.

"Lieutenant Dashan," Jolenne greets immediately, offering what may have been a smile if she’d concentrated on it a little more, "What were your plans following this tour?"

Sinnie seems more than a little caught off guard by the abrupt question, especially since she still hadn’t managed to come up with an answer throughout the day. “I uh… I guess I’m pretty flexible, really. Not much family to speak of, already finished college, I don’t really have an attachment to any one place. …Why do you ask?”

"I’m in a similar situation, and I don’t particularly enjoy the idea of continuing this work. There are too many medical developments in progress, and I’m missing them all out here, doing menial patch-up work." She clenches one fist for a moment, then closes her book and sets it aside. "What I’m getting at, in any case, was a proposal of co-habitation. I haven’t had a roommate in a very long time, but with one such as yourself I believe it would be reasonable to afford a respectable living space in Wiltshire, for the United Kingdom Medical Research Council. If need be, it is very near an army training base, should you wish to remain involved."

Sinnie seems a bit flabbergasted at the idea, but considers quickly. “Definitely sounds like something worth looking into, yeah. I’d like a break for civilian life for awhile.”


	9. Stood

The night is growing long, and the pile of empty syringes is dwindling under the steady hands of Lt. Dashan. The doctor, in the meantime, has spent the time with the three in-patients spending the night under her care. The officer in the corner is recovering from a bullet wound in the ribs, the private near the entrance has a nasty shrapnel cut down his flank, and the corproral next to him is cast-bound to set three separate fractures in her foot. All three are sound asleep by the time Jolenne finishes her rounds and comes to relieve Sinnie of her duties. “This will be a sufficiently convenient stock for the next couple of weeks, thank you.”

Sinnie nods and heads toward the exit, a little disappointed at having had so little to talk about with the doctor. But this wasn’t the first time she’d been struck with a silent spell, absorbed in thought more than her surroundings.

"Dashan," the absentminded doctor calls after her, just before she’s gone from sight, "Why did you come back?"

Sinnie smiles just a little to herself and shrugs one shoulder, “I thought you stood to benefit from a little company. If I’m wrong, send me away next time.” And with that, she ducks out and heads off to the bunk.


	10. Failed

Sinnie meets Jolenne outside the bunks, the lieutenant’s sympathetic head-tilt met only with a grim stare. The harsh red tint of the first light of day seems to give all gathered there a strange, statuesque appearance. The ceremony is a short one, with a few words spoken by friends and a farewell from a single bugle before the casket is beamed away, back to the family of the departed overseas.

"Are you alright?" Sinnie queries softly after the ceremony disperses.

"I failed last night. This is the consequence." The doctor seems aloof, trying to distance herself from the very real life which had come to an end in her care.

"Hey, you did everything you could!"

Jolenne can hardly meet her friend’s eyes, and turns to be alone in the medical tent as usual, “That doesn’t make him any less dead.”


	11. Footsteps

"Tell me more about your family," Sinnie prompts, holding open a bag as Jolene tosses in pieces of a cast she’s removing.

"My family? Hah. There aren’t many of us left," the doctor seems to be more amused by this fact than sorrowful, though it’s never exactly easy to tell what she’s thinking at the moment.

"As I mentioned a while ago, the various generations have always carried this gift, in one way or another. One great-grandfather was a healer of minds, a well-practiced psychiatrist. My uncle was Graced more in the area of the plant kingdom, traveling from one forest to another to repair damage from fires or man-made destruction. My father was a veterinarian, working with both pets and livestock with one of the lowest euthanization rates in the world. I’m just following in their footsteps, one of the more boring stories in our lineage."

"You’re not boring! You’ve made a big difference in our tour, when so many more of us would have just been sent right home with a purple heart." The patient they’re working on seems to have been listening in, and he nods in agreement with Sinnie’s assertion.

Dr. Uzumane shrugs, not really acknowledging the compliments as she moves on to stripping the cots of their used sheets. “Anyway, these days it’s just me and my brother. He never really displayed any extra abilities, but he’s a very gifted chemist in Philadelphia. Needless to say, we’re not exactly close. Considering our… respective dispositions, it’s more than likely the lineage will end with us.”


	12. Thrown

Jolenne’s phone rings in the middle of the night, though she’d already been lying awake in the cabin bed. The tossing and churning of the rough ocean had kept her from drifting off as Sinnie had done so easily. The quick-witted doctor snaps her phone up and silences it before the noise can wake her roommate, whispering harshly into it as an answer. “Hello?”

The background of the call is full of a loud white noise, mostly the howling whistle of the winds against the receiver. “Is this the doctor on board? There’s been an accident, we need your help.”

“Fine. Where should I report?”

“Near the stern of the ship, there’s a small storage room to keep us out of the storm.”

Uzumane hangs up without a response, having already slipped out of bed and into a thick jacket. Never mind her hair, she dismisses, surely they care more about saving the victim than about the tangled black rat’s nest atop her head.

Soon enough, the doctor forces her way into the indicated closet and lets the wind slam the door shut behind her. There lies an unconscious man in his late forties, sopping wet and quite pale, surrounded by a wind-swept passenger and another soaked-through crewman. “What happened?” Jolenne drops to a kneel beside the half-drowned man, checking his vitals with a deep frown.

“He was up for a trip to the bathroom and was thrown overboard by a sudden tip in the waves.” The other passenger, presumably his wife, stands by with a worried expression, wringing her hands uselessly.

“Oh for god's sake, does nobody on this boat know basic CPR?” Jolenne grumbles and puts her diminutive weight into chest compressions, keeping a steady rhythm until the gentleman starts to cough and sputter and spit out the seawater in his lungs.


	13. Accomplice

Sinnie is astonished upon returning home to find the flat surrounded by police cars and an ambulance. Her first thought flies to Mr. Hartford, with his frail hip, falling down the stairs on his way up to speak with Jolenne. Hoping to be proven wrong, the journalist rushes inside to check on the conditions of her little adopted family.

“I’m fine,” Jolenne answers as soon as her roommate brushes past the police officers and ducks in the door, “Just had a bit of a run-in with a couple of drunken would-be burglars.”  
  
Sinnie glances around to find the flat in a sad state of disarray, even more pronounced than what Jolenne has been known to leave it in from time to time. “And mister Hartford?”

“He’s not even home. Out on a trip to the library, I think he said.”

“But then… who was the ambulance for?”

Jolenne chuckles softly as she dries off the hand she’d been running under hot water, allowing Sinnie a glimpse at bloodied knuckles and a nasty swelling. “One of them managed to stumble away before I could deal with him. His slow-witted accomplice was not so lucky.”

The shaken veteran shivers at the cold, dispatching tone coming from her practitioner friend. She’d come to forget that the doctor had ever been involved in the war at all, but it was instances like this which reminded her that the slight frame hid away a warrior as capable as any of the privates on the front lines.


	14. Apologetic

“I am SO sorry, doc,” Sinnie hovers worriedly as the doctor nurses her wound with a wince, biting her lip to keep from whimpering from the pain. She sucks in a long, quivering breath as she applies a firm gauze compress to the three-inch gash along the outside of her forearm. “Is there anything I can do…?” Not used to seeing Jolenne lose her composure, Sinnie is a bit shaken from the whole accident. It had all happened so quickly… in one moment she was gathering the instruments for an impending operation, and the next moment they were flying out of her control as she struggled to keep her balance, having missed the intrusion of the wash basin on the ground.

“Don’t be so apologetic, Lieutenant,” Dr. Uzumane finally answers after a good few moments, wrapping her arm in gauze and tape before covering the whole affair with a long nitrile glove. “It will be gone soon enough, we’ll both forget this happened within the month.” Snapping on the other glove, the doctor hones in on the patient she’d been prepping for surgery. “Besides, we have work to do. I’ll need a clean scalpel.”


	15. Doubt

“Where’s the doctor?” A new face has arrived in the medical tent, and Sinnie watches with curiosity from her recovery cot as Dr. Uzumane tends to the puncture wound and severe bruising left over from a barrage against his Kevlar vest.

“I am the doctor,” Jolenne assures him, still concentrating on determining whether there’s any more internal bleeding before the new intake loses consciousness.

“Yeah, but… the REAL doctor.” Sinnie can’t tell if the injured man is confused or disoriented as he gestures vaguely into the emptiness of the rest of the medical tent. “He is coming, right?”

Jolenne pauses then and glares up at him suspiciously. “I am the REAL doctor, soldier.”

“But you’re a woman.”

Sinnie winces at the slight to the pale physician, biting her lip as she anticipates a fit of rage or a spell of depression.

“I see you must be new to this troupe. Do you doubt my abilities, private? Your fellow soldiers have literally placed your life in my hands, and you are DAMN lucky to have me, do you understand?” By this point the doctor has gripped one side of the impudent man’s shirt, his beaten abdomen still exposed to the elements, and has imposed herself very closely into his personal space. He remains silent, meeting her eyes with an equally stubborn glare for a moment before glancing away in a wordless resignation.


	16. Never

"No way. You’re full of it." The circle of soldiers sits in various stages of shock, all of their drinks planted firmly in their laps as Lt. Dashan raises her canteen to her lips alone.

"What? It’s not that out of the ordinary. Especially not these days." The frizzy blonde wipes the excess liquor from her smile and seems amused at her troupe’s bafflement, though the life twinkling in her eyes lends strength to her story. She’s pleased about surprising people who thought they knew her so well, not fibbing to pull their legs. "It’s not all that unpleasant, either, not if you get in the right mindset. With the right person."

"Shit," the private whose turn it had been to come up with a feat only runs a hand over his face and shakes his head. "I didn’t really expect someone to fess up when I said I never asked to be spanked." He sighs and shrugs, passing over control to Dashan, the obvious winner of that round. "Your turn, Lieutenant."

Sinnie shrugs and taps her fingertips against her canteen, unsure how to proceed with the current tone set by the previous dare. “I never… disrespected authority.”

Clearly the winner of the night, Sinnie only laughs harder as the rest of the participants give up and drain their drinks.


	17. Conviction

Eyes straight forward, Sinnie listens keenly to the confrontation between the other private and the drill sergeant. Like the other trainees around her, she didn’t dare move an inch to watch the scene unfold. It was always an unfortunate pattern, watching this spiral of misbehavior and disrespect, but it was common enough to drive the point home for the rest of the troupe.

Recruits like this were either protesting the draft from within, or found after a while that they just didn’t have the conviction to see their term through. At least the breakdown is happening now, while they’re still in basic training, she reasons, rather than hindering them all once they’re out overseas. It’s just too bad their outbursts would do them no good… Only time and death can grant freedom from patriotism now.


	18. Underdog

Sinnie tucks away her tablet and microphone in the pockets of her blazer, doing one last check of her hair in the mirror before leaving for work.

"You’re dressed differently today," Jolenne observes, "Don’t you usually wear a dress to work?"

"Yeah," Sinnie turns to address the curious doctor and gives her outfit another once-over. "I’m going to cover the Heralds game today. Thought it would be a little more appropriate to dress in something that wouldn’t be impossible to run in. What do you think?"

Jolenne only quirks one eyebrow before turning back to her molecular research. “Since when did you cover sporting events? Dull.”

Sinnie shrugs and runs her fingers through her hair before pulling it back into a tight bun. “The Heralds are up against the Androids today. They’re out-ranked by quite a lot, and there’s a lot of hype about the drama between the coaches. Everyone loves an underdog story. I know I did.” Sinnie swoops in to plant a quick kiss atop Jolenne’s head before dashing out the door to her unusual assignment.


	19. Flattened

The night is hot and stagnant, the orange haze of the street lights leaving much to the imagination as Sinnie dodges the odorous vapors sneaking up from every manhole. Going without a camera crew for tonight, she’s embarked on a research outing on her own, clad in a dark coat to divert attention and equipped with a small recorder and a low-grade miniature camera. The boss had assigned Dashan to the streets for the week, well aware that she would be more than able to take care of herself with her combat training.

It had been a slow few days so far, but tonight proves to be a little more interesting. There’s something… alive about the few shady figures out and about late at night. Instead of loitering in one place, they seem to be heading somewhere. The same somewhere, all of them. Sinnie drops into step behind a couple of teens, scooting in just close enough to pick up bits and pieces of their hushed conversation.

"I heard the carnage was so…"

"Yeah? Well I heard he…"

"…betting on the new…"

"You’re on."

As the conversation trails off, Sinnie falls back a few paces to keep from rousing the lads’ suspicions. As she rounds a corner behind them, however, she gasps and leaps back around, her form flattened against the wall to keep from being noticed or recognized by the third silhouette she’d spied further down the alley. It’s hard to tell in the semi-darkness, but Sinnie could swear she’d just seen the figure of Colonel Marshall, her old superior from the first month or two of her tour. What would he possibly be doing in Chicago?


	20. Pity

Cooped up in her room as usual, Jolenne has drawn the blinds tightly to shut out the harsh glare of the brilliant sun outside. With her classmates all taking advantage of the nice weather and the freedom of the weekend, she’d been left to her own devices as though it were simply an extended recess period. And just like at recess, Jolenne has found a little comfortable spot to curl up with a good book. Jolenne finds she’s been growing out of fiction lately, instead moving to biology texts and novelized historicals.

"Stuck inside again, I see?" Jolenne glances up from her book to see the smug figure of Mizuki, still on a confidence high from her recent stylish haircut.

"Go away," Jolenne grunts stubbornly, "I’m busy."

"Looks to me like you’re lonely," Mizuki corrects. "Are you sure you don’t want to go play outside? I’ll even come with you if you want."

Pausing halfway through a line of text, Jolenne considers the offer. It’s not often her big sister voluntarily spends time with her, usually off cavorting with the boys her own age. But a second glance at the worried sibling reveals not a true desire to spend time together, so much as a sense of familial duty.

"I don’t need your pity, Mizuki. Go play with your own friends, I’m fine."

Dismissed from her potential sentence, the taller girl shrugs and pulls on her sneakers to go have fun in the baseball field.


	21. Gesture

It had been a long journey for the both of them, but Jolenne and Sinnie finally find themselves pulling up to the front door of their new shared residence. The key is bright and shiny, having been carried and fondled by Jolenne since its delivery to their base camp. With an excited glance of anticipation between the two, the doctor pushes her way in to get a glimpse of the place.

For the most part, it is very much what they’d seen in the projections online. The most notable difference, at least at first glance, is a large fruit basket nestled snugly on the kitchen table. Only marked by a large handwritten sign, “S + J” in exceptionally large capital letters, Sinnie can’t help but chuckle at the kind welcoming gesture.

"Hmm," Jolenne ponders to herself, inspecting the note a little more closely. "I wonder if Mister Hartford is blind?"

"I wonder if we can afford some furniture," Sinnie sighs, looking forlornly about the mostly-empty living room. "Come on, let’s empty out the rental truck."


	22. Locket

"Jolenne," her mother beckoned, "I actually had a few things I wanted to give you while you're here." The aging woman shuffles off to her bedroom for a minute and returns with a jewelry box full of family heirlooms. "I've been revising my will a lot lately, of course, and... well, these things aren't exactly worth much in monetary value, but I wanted to make sure they'd be safe with you."

Jolenne sighs and seats herself on the couch beside her mother, knowing she won't be able to turn away yet another collection of trinkets to clutter up her small dormitory.

"This bracelet was an ivory import, traded from Africa to Japan. It was an anniversary present to my great-grandmother. And this locket, well... I don't even remember who it was, exactly, only that it was a very romantic story that went along with it." Mrs. Uzumane struggles for a moment with the clasp before handing it helplessly over to Jolenne's expert fingers. "The old pictures are still in there, I never had the heart to replace them. Not that we really even still use printed photos these days anyway."

Jolenne sighs as she cracks open the heirloom, still not really sure how to deal with this recent phase the terminal affliction has pushed her mother into. "Mom, why don't you send these to Alex? I know he likes these sort of things a lot better than I do, he'll appreciate them more."

"I'd be afraid of them getting damaged in the mail..." The pathetic image of frailty tugs at Jolenne's stiff heartstrings and makes the grad student sigh with a subtle shake of her head.

"Fine, I'll stick this in storage. But... you know, mom, what you really ought to do is transcript out the stories that go along with these. Otherwise they'll just be THINGS." Jolenne stands to grab a box from the recycling in the kitchen, packing the little jewelry box into it with a few paper towels.

Mrs. Uzumane sniffles a bit and nods, "I'll try to do that. Thanks for coming by to visit again today."


	23. Sympathy

"I’ve been informed that some of you-" The doctor shoots a purposeful glance toward Jolenne, "Are still sorely lacking in your bedside manners. So today we’re going to focus on that during our lessons and practice runs."

An audible groan passes through the fresh group of residents and interns, many of them whispering to each other about how boring this would be. The young Uzumane only narrows her eyes in a small retaliation to the silent accusation from her superior.

"Just remember the most important thing, try to keep it in mind throughout the day- and for the rest of your career, for that matter! You HAVE to show sympathy for your patient. Be attentive to their needs and comfort, even if you’re bored or whatever. Seriously, guys." The weary doctor shakes his head and sighs, ending with a resigned shrug. "Anyway, you have your assignments. Get to it."

Without another word, Jolenne turns heel and marches down the hallway, out-pacing her classmates to make it to the patient she’d been working with for the week.


	24. Caramel

Jolenne twiddles a cheap plastic pen between her restless fingers as she reads over the details of the 2030 US census. Flicking a quick check mark where appropriate, alternating back and forth between her own form and Sinnie’s, she reaches another section which requires some double-checking with her cohabitant. On her own form, two boxes receive a check mark- White, and Japanese. Non-Hispanic. Check. But on Sinnie’s…

The doctor had wondered occasionally where Dashan’s caramel complexion had come from. Originally, she’d assumed it had been a tan from the exposure to the Afghan sun. But it had been more than a year since their deployment, and though nowhere near smooth and flawless, Sinnie’s skin had remained as perfectly tan as ever. Her frizzy blonde curls only served to confuse the matter even further.

"What should I mark under the race and ethnicity category for you?" Jolenne twists with her clipboard over the back of her armchair, referring to the reporter hard at work at the desk with her computer.

"Hmm?" Sinnie looks up, her mind taking a moment to switch tracks again before she recognizes the question, "Oh, uh, Mulatto." A telling silence permeates the conversation as Jolenne searches the choices for such a word. Sinnie sighs and pushes to her feet, hovering over Jolenne’s shoulder to have a look. "Hmm, just check both Black and White, and Hispanic origin down here. Close enough."

Jolenne only nods and continues on to the next section, taking a mental note to ask about the Dashan family sometime soon. They sounded quite interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (See Indra Ove for reference)


	25. Falter

The night is hot and stifling, leaving the foot soldiers panting heavily as they dodge enemy fire and aim their weapons at any opportunity. The platoon advances slowly, the privates squatting from one cover to the next as Lt. Dashan dashes between her troupes to check their status and assess the situation. Near the back, she finds two soldiers quietly squabbling between themselves, huddled over a young boy. He appears to be no more than 15 years old, with his arm pinned beneath a large chunk of the nearby building, knocked unconscious and bleeding heavily in his abdomen. “He’s not one of ours,” one of the soldiers, a green private fresh out of training shrugs uncertainly. “What do we do?”

"He needs medical attention. Let’s get him unpinned, then fall back and take him to the field hospital." Sinnie searches about for something to use for a stretcher, having trained with Jolenne long enough to know better than to exacerbate any injuries the local boy may have sustained by carrying him. A nearby awning catches her eye, and she darts over to grab a piece of the colorful, ruined canvas large enough to carry a human. Leaving the platoon with her second-in-command, Sinnie takes one of the two privates to transport the injured civilian over the miles-long stretch back to base camp.

By the time they arrive in the sweet, chilled climate of Jolenne’s domain, the bright blue of the canvas has been covered in dust and soaked an alarming maroon from the boy’s blood. The nurse assigned to incoming patients stares. The entrance of wounded warriors on makeshift stretchers is no unusual sight, but he’s never seen one of THEM in here before. “Hey doc!” his face blanched pale by now, the nurse calls toward the back of the complex toward Dr. Uzumane. “I need a judgement call here…”

Jolenne appears instantly, her keen eyes assessing the situation as she dons a fresh pair of gloves and crouches to take a quick pulse. The good doctor does not falter in her methods, no matter the change in usual demographic. “His arm has a compound fracture. He has at least a concussion, if not a contusion. And for this-” She gingerly tests the fabric of his drenched shirt before lifting it to inspect the wound. “The bleeding is starting to slow, but he’ll need a transfusion. It appears to be external only. Sanitize and suture, test for blood type.”

"Yes, doctor." Calling a few more assistants to his aid, the nurse gets to work on their newest patient.

Sinnie pauses to greet Jolenne with a tired smile and a nod before ducking out with her private into the smothering heat to head back to the front lines.


	26. Confined

It’s been a couple of weeks since the two vets have settled into their new residence in the small condo complex. Jolenne, having picked this area for its surrounding prospects, has fallen right into routine… if one can call it that, with the wildly differing cases she’s worked on in one hospital or another. But in any case, she has a steady stream of work to keep her occupied and relevant.

Sinnie, however, is not nearly so familiar with the new area. It’s leagues away from her childhood home, her university alma mater, and from her extended family- aside from one third cousin Mrs. Dashan seems to think is about an hour’s drive away. They’ve never met.

The retired lieutenant has spent this past week moving and unpacking and shopping and dusting and decorating, and scoping out the local newspapers, but she’s beginning to get cabin fever. Shortly after Jolenne departs for the day, Sinnie pulls a nice coat on and heads out for a romp around town. The local rail is reasonably priced, connected to the bus system, and seems to be somewhat reliable as public transportation schedules go. Within the course of an hour, Sinnie has already filled two pages in her little notebook with potential places of employment- and those are just the ones visible from the Green Line’s route.

Jolenne returns to find Sinnie on the phone with the news station across from downtown, typing out a resume with a frenzied energy fueling her fingers. After a few minutes, Sinnie hangs up and wipes her brow dramatically.

"Sorry," she laughs a little as Jolenne tilts her head good-naturedly, "I had to find a job. I’m going crazy, confined indoors like this. I think the desert spoiled me."

Jolene only chuckles, knowing this would probably be the only time someone would say such a thing about the war overseas. “Fair enough. Good luck.”


	27. Farmers

"Ah, yes, that will work perfectly. Thank you. Should we bring anything, or… alright, that’s good. We’ll see you then." Jolenne lowers her phone to end the call, and taps out an appointment into her calendar for future reference.

"Who was that?" Sinnie unwraps her heavy scarf and leaves it to dry by the door, slipping out of her boots before heading over to inspect Jolenne’s work.

"That was one of the bee farmers I’ve been in contact with. An apiarist, to be technical. He’s responsible for the huge surge of honeybee population recovery that we’ve seen in the past decade, thanks to those greenhouse complexes specially designed to keep the hives safe and thriving." Jolenne slowly twirls a small jar of honey around, its amber glaze tinting the light from her desk lamp.

"I see… and why the sudden interest in bees?" Sinnie pats gently at the back of the desk chair before heading into the kitchen to make some hot chocolate, still in earshot.

"There have been countless studies on the health benefits of honey, supposedly almost on par with my own abilities. And recently, there have been some promising experiments regarding the venom in bee stings having very good results in treating cancer." The investigative reporter turns at this, now keenly interested. "So I’ve arranged an appointment to visit the hives and take some samples to work with. It’s a few hours’ train ride from here, did you want to come along?"

"Absolutely," Sinnie grins as she settles in on the couch with a steaming mug, "I’ll call to make arrangements with work, when is the appointment?"

"Next month. It’s supposed to be warm enough for one of the hives to be transported for pollination, and Dr. Hansen thought we might enjoy a look at the process as well."


	28. Terrain

Sinnie collapses into the plush seat of the compartment she’s split with Jolenne, their various pieces of baggage tucked safely into the luggage rack along the ceiling. Jolenne settles in with her tablet, catching up on the science world before sinking into the next chapter of the biography she’d been reading on Charlotte Hemmarel, the developer of the neural-net connective prosthetics still in use today.

Sinnie, however, cannot just settle in so easily. The gentle rocking of the train is less of a comfort and more of a call to adventure. The curious journalist finds her gaze drifting out the window, watching the terrain change gradually from the flat suburbia as they exit the city to the sloping hills and gradually thickening forests not too far away from the tracks. This, at least, is familiar. It may not be the same forest as the one the Dashan family had occupied during her childhood, but Sinnie watches it with interest nonetheless.

Several hours into their trip, however, the scenery changes again- and drastically this time, a completely different landscape in the blink of an eye. Instead of the organic shapes of the pine forest they’d passed through, now endless rows of orchards spread as far as the valley can stretch before the mountains in the distance prevent their growth. “Wow… is that all one farm?”

Jolenne looks up from her book, glancing out at the same acres she’d researched before heading out. “Oh, we’re almost here. We’ll actually be passing our destination here in a minute, the station is another twenty minutes past the- There it is, look!”

Indeed, the endless lined pattern of edible plants is suddenly broken by a huge expanse of white material- it’s hard to make out from this distance whether it’s plastic or fabric or even painted metal, but the smooth white plates form an oblong dome. The structure appears to be large enough to house a college campus or two, tall as a skyscraper in the middle. “That’s the apiary complex?” Jolenne nods a confirmation, and Sinnie scrambles to get her camera out, cracking the window open far enough to fit the lens through.


End file.
